


Back to You

by AstroLatte



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Makkachin makes everything better, So much fluff that i don't even know why I even pretended I could do anything angsty with these two, Victor is the worst patient, Yuri pretends not to care, Yuri totally cares, Yuuri trying his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 06:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11914908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroLatte/pseuds/AstroLatte
Summary: Yuuri hears the crack of skates on the ice before he even hears the crash on the backboard.





	Back to You

Yuuri hears the crack of the skates on the ice before he even hears the crash on the backboard.

_ “Vitya!” _

The towel he's using to wipe the sweat that been collecting on his face is thrown to the side as his head whips around to see Victor on all four, the wind having been knocked out of him from the fall. Yuuri’s on his feet, the smoothness of the ice beneath his skates ignored as he slides to his fiance’s side, unable to read his expression beneath the curtain of silver hair.

“He missed his landing while practicing a quad flip,” Yurio all but barks. Mila has already gone to find Yakov and the staff medic for the rink. “Geezer hasn’t been back on the ice for more than a month, and he’s already forgotten how to land his own signature move!”

Yuuri shoots the teenager a glare. He knew that deep down Yurio means well, but his bad attitude is the last thing he needs to deal with right now. Especially with Victor still not back on his feet.

“Typical Yurio,” Georgie hisses, pinching Yurio on the forearm. “Can’t get over your own childishness long enough to even see if your teammate is okay.” A pause. “Is he okay?”

The insult is enough to distract the teen into picking a fight with the other skater, both sliding to the other side of the rink to argue. Though annoying, Yuuri is thankful for the quiet as he leans down and pushes Victor’s bangs out of the way, revealing a painful expression.

“Victor,” he says in a low voice, cupping his gloved hand to his cheek. “Can you get up?”

The light from the ice reflects brightly on the pale skin of Victor’s throat as he swallows heavily before whispering, “I...don’t know...”

* * *

When the medic finishes wrapping Victor's ankle, Yuuri joins with a sour looking Yakov.

  
"So, what's the damage?" Yakov barks and Yuuri feels the rising panic in his stomach beginning to bubble. He still isn't used to the older man's gruff coaching style, no matter how many times Victor assures him that Yakov was all bark no bite.    
  
"Hmmm, nothing too serious," the doctor says in thickly accented English, something that Yuuri is thankful for as he still struggles to pick up Russian. He tosses the rest of his unused roll of an ace bandage into his bag, "It seems to be a mild sprain, but he should stay off it for the weekend."   
  
Yuuri feels the tension leave his shoulder like air out of a balloon. When he turns to send a smile to Victor, he notices a darker look on his face. Yakov could scowl all he wanted, but he knew Victor is probably more angry at himself for missing his landing and getting himself hurt than anyone else.   
  
"I also suggest he take it easy. It's never good to throw one's self back into to rink, respectively given his age and the fact the he hasn't skated in a year."   
  
Yuuri listens intently as the medic lists various treatment options - keeping the foot elevated, a steady rotation between cold and hot packs - and recommends taking ibuprofen for any pain. He types all the instructions into his phone, pausing when he notices the doctor eying him. Noticing the look, Yakov clears his throat.   
  
"Yuuri is Victor's...student," he explains and Yuuri has to rest his hand on Victor's good foot to keep him from leaning forward and saying something rude.   
  
He knows the deal. Russia is not always as understanding as Hateasu...   
  
"Ack! Watch it, you cow!"   
  
At the sound of a crash, Yuuri turns around to see Yurio, Mila and the other rink mates huddled in the doorway, their snooping obviously just busted.   
  
Yakov turns red with fury as he begins yelling at the skaters, who either ignore him or, in the case of Yurio, flip him the bird before rushing over to Victor's bedside.   
  
"Is it true that you can never skate again?!" Yurio's voice cracks, causing him to quickly clear his throat. "Not that I'm surprised, old man..."   
  
"Of course not," the doctor sighs, collecting his belongings before turning to Yakov, patting his shoulder affectionately. "Your skaters are quite...dramatic."

Yakov grumbled something under his breath as he waves the other man away. He turns to glare at Yuuri, who goes ramrod straight when he barks his name.

“You two should go home and-” he stops when his cell phone rings. Pulling it from his breast pocket, he pales when he reads the name on the screen.

“Yakov?” Victor asks and is waved off when the man hurriedly leaves the room to take the call.

Mila and the other skaters instantly go back to demanding answers to their questions - what happened? How'd he mess up his own jump? Was he faking?

“I told you, I just landed wrong,” he smiles, but Yuuri sees that it doesn't reach his eyes. When Victor turns his head to him, Yuuri feels his ears warm. “I'm sorry, Yuuri.”

“Why-”

He’s interrupted by Yakov slamming the door as he forces it back open, glaring at his skaters who are still crowding the infirmary.

“Well, what was the call for, boss?” Mila asks, and Yuuri isn't sure if it's because she's the bravest of them or if she simply has no fear of death. Either way, it makes him both fear and admire the female skater.

“I'm having an emergency trip to visit Lilia. Yura, Mila, and Georgi will come with me for the weekend to work on your poise,” he explains, voice lowering midway through the sentence. Mila whistles teasingly, earning a glare from Yakov. Turning over his shoulder, he adds, “Yuuri, although I am not officially your coach, since you are part of my rink, you are welcomed to join us. However, Vitya, you will stay behind.” he pauses to send Victor a look of complete disdain. “Take this time to rest your ankle and mentally prepare for practice when we return. You have much to improve on if you wish to return to the ice this season.”

Yakov allows the words to set in the room for a full ten seconds before he barks at the Russian skaters to return to the ice, lacing his words with veiled threats about “extra practice time” if they didn't hurry.

Looking across at Victor, Yuuri’s heart flutters when he sees the man is still smiling at him. Even though his ankle is wrapped and pathetically propped up on a nearly flatten infirmary pillow. He extends his hand and watches as their fingers effortless intertwine, the gold bands on their fingers glittering in the light. Yuuri knows what Victor is trying to tell him with the gesture, but when was he ever one to listen?

“Thank you for the invitation, Yakov,” Yuuri says, bowing his head in respect, even though he knew it made the elderly Russian uncomfortable. “But I'll stay behind with Victor.”

Victor swallows hard and looks away, “Yuuri…”

Yakov eyes him once over, gives a curt nod and exits the room.

They sit in silence for a few moments, with Yuuri running his thumb along Victor’s knuckles, ignoring the disappointed glint in his eyes.

“You should go with Yakov,” he says, voice low. “You’re going to miss valuable ice time.”

“It’s just a weekend, I’ll catch up,” Yuuri smiles, squeezing his hand. “I’ll stay home with you.”

“Home…” Victor echoes, eyes watering. He leans forward to peck to kiss on Yuuri’s lips, whispering slowly, “So, how do we get home?”

“Um...I dunno,” Yuuri laughs nervously. “I’m still new to the city, you see.”

Victor pulls away, smiling and tapping his forefinger against his lips, “I have an idea~”

* * *

Yuuri groans as sweat drips down his neck. He’s having a hard time catching his breath as he powers through. In his ear, Victor's humming in a sing-song voice.

“You didn't think I would let you off easy, did you, my little katsudon?”

“Ngh...no...but…”

“But?~”

“But...isn’t me carrying you a little much?” Yuuri groans as he slowly makes his way over the bridge leading to Victor’s apartment on the other side of the city. “Your wingspan alone is twice the size of me.”

“Nonsense! This is a perfect exercise and it keeps me off my ankle and puts that endurance of yours to the test,” he explains, wrapping his long arms around Yuuri’s shoulders. “A piggyback ride from my little piggy! It's so fitting!”

Yuuri grunts, pausing for a second to readjust his hold on Victor. The last thing they need is to have to explain to Yakov that Victor’s injury worsened after being dropped from a piggyback ride in the streets of St. Petersburg because Yuuri’s arms gave out.

Lucky for him there’s a cool breeze in the air, and the sun isn’t nearly harsh as it could be. It’s been a few weeks since he moved in with Victor, but the pleasantness of the weather still surprised him. 

Whenever Yuuri had imagined Russia in the past, he figured it was nothing but cold, barren snow towns. However, the corner of St. Petersburg that Victor had carved to call home was friendly and the ocean reminded him of home. It was a lot larger than Hasetu, but the locals seemed to respect Victor’s privacy and even though they were living in a country that wasn’t exactly welcoming of their situation, they didn’t outwardly show it.

“Hmm, someone’s deep in thought,” came Victor’s voice again, startling Yuuri. “You missed the turn you were supposed to take three blocks ago.   


“Ack! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Victor answer was inaudible as he was too busy snuggling into Yuuri’s neck.

“I’m still new here,” Yuuri sighed, “Next time let me know when I’m going the wrong way, okay?” He readjusted Victor on his back as he spun around, “We must look ridiculous, and we already give the neighbors enough to talk about. They don’t need any additional ammunition.”

“I rather they talk about us than my stupid injury,” Victor pouts, burying his face back into Yuuri’s jacket. “I can talk about you forever.”

Yuuri feels his heart skip and Victor laughs.

“Did I make you blush?”

“N-no! I’m just overexerted!

“Awww, my little piggy is so cute!”

“Stop nuzzling me and tell me where to go, please!”

* * *

When they finally make it back to the apartment, Yuuri drops Victor very unceremoniously onto the sofa before collapsing face-first onto the floor. The sound of rapidly approaching paws indicates that Makkachin has heard them and eagerly runs in to greet them. Before Yuuri can move, he’s being covered in dog kisses.

“Hi, Makkachin,” he coos as he sits up, scratching the dog behind the ears. “Did you miss us?” The dog barks in response, pushing into Yuuri’s hands to give him better access. 

“Makka, come give me love too,” Victor whines from the couch, arms stretched out. “I’m injured and need affection!”

The poodle barks and jumped from Yuuri to stand on Victor's chest, licking his master as Victor hugs him. Soon, the dog has made itself comfortable spread out between Victor’s side and the back of the sofa. 

“He didn’t take long to get comfortable,” Yuuri quips as he pulls some throw pillows to prop up Victor’s bad ankle. “How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

Victor shakes his head, running a hand along Makkachin’s coat, “No, but I am a little hungry. Could we have some food?”

“Sure, are you feeling anything in particular?” 

Victor’s eyes sparkle and before the line can leave his lips, Yuuri interrupts him, “Don’t say katsudon.”

The older man pouts, turning his attention to Makkachin instead, mumbling under his breath something that Yuuri is sure is whiney in Russian. Yuuri can’t help but laugh and kisses his fiancé on the forehead before making his way to the kitchen.

Yuuri’s just about finished plating the food when he hears the sound of the television from the livingroom. Peeking his head out, his stomach drops when he sees that Victor is the top story on whatever Russian Sports channel he’d turned to. He doesn’t need to know Russian to tell that the news of his injury has already leaked to the mainstream press.

Sprinting out, Yuuri skids across the room in his socks, grabbing the remote from Victor’s hands and quickly changing the channel. It lands on what appears to be a game show. Or maybe it’s a talk show. Yuuri still isn’t great at identifying the shows on Russian television, but nobody seems to be talking about Victor and that’s enough for him. 

“Yuuri!” Victor whines and he reaches for the remote. “I was watching that!”

“No! You are not going to listen to a bunch of people on television debate your career just because you had a bad fall today.” Yuuri turns to the television, keep the remote out of Victor’s reach. He only makes a half-effort as grabbing back, his movements deflated. “I can’t believe it leaked to the press already...it’s only been a few hours.”

“Maybe it was Yakov as a means to punish me,” Victor offers, letting his head drop to the side.  “So I can hear over and over again how I’m a has-been like Yurio keeps saying.”

“Stop that talk,” Yuuri says softly, kneeling down to his at Victor’s eye-level. “Do you really think that or are you just saying that because you had a bad fall today and got spooked?”

Victor doesn't answer, instead looks downward at the matching gold rings on their fingers. The gold glimmers in the light of the apartment which size had shocked Yuuri when he first walked inside. It was large but also felt cold and sterile. It was a place to live, but not a home.

Yuuri leans in closer, resting his elbows on the throw pillows that clashed with everything but are so comfy Victor is able to stomach the complete lack of taste.

“You're allowed to have a bad fall,” he whispers, running a hand through Victor’s hair. His blue eyes shift to look at Yuuri who's smiling. “I fall all the time. But someone told me it doesn't matter as long as you get back up afterward.”

“Was that someone, perhaps a very special coach/fiancé?” Victor’s eyes are downright sparkling.

“No, it was actually Yurio,” Yuuri cuts. “And the original had way more curses in between.”

The noise Victor makes can only be described as “guttural.” It's loud enough to get Makkachin to turn and give his master extra sloppy licks in hopes of alleviating his pain. 

“So cold, Yuuri…”

“Not as cold as this food is gonna be unless you start eating,” he gives Victor a quick peck and hurries back to the kitchen to grab the plates.

Victor leans back on the sofa, hands deep in Makkachin’s fur. His face is more relaxed by the time Yuuri comes back with their plates.

“You know, even if Yakov gave you instructions to take care of me this weekend, I am still your coach,” he says, throwing a chew toy into the bedroom to distract Makkachin away from the food. Yuuri watches as the dog falls for the ploy, nearly skidding into the door as he scampers to find the toy.

“Does that mean extra pull exercises for me at the rink?” The grin Victor gives him makes his stomach drop. “Victor! Now who’s the cold one?!”

* * *

They make a deal for the rest of the weekend to have Yuuri read everything regarding Victor’s injury first, then tell him what was sage read. It helped filter the news from the speculation, and Yuuri knew Victor didn’t really have time to think about anything other than getting better so he could return to the ice when Yakov came back.

On Saturday night, Victor is able to stand and hobble to the living room to take up far too much room on the sofa. By Sunday he's following Yuuri to the rink to coach him from the bench on the side of the rink, foot elevated and wrapped tightly in an ace bandage. Sleeping lazily, Makkachin looks like a fur rug under the bleachers.

Yuuri skids to the edge of the rink, tired and panting from his numerous attempts at landing his jumps. Even though he knows his success rate is steadying improving, every fall still stings his pride almost as much as his body.

“You’re mismanaging your weight on your back foot again,” Victor notes, handing Yuuri his water bottle. “You need to land more like this -  _ shit! _ ”

Water sputters out of Yuuri’s mouth as he leans forward to pull Victor back on the bench. In his attempt to correct Yuuri’s form, Victor had stepped off the bench on his bad foot. Slipping his skate guards on, he’s quickly at Victor’s side.

“Victor, be careful!” He scolds, helping his fiancé back to a sitting position. “If you don't watch yourself, you’ll make it worse.”

“I was feeling so much better, too,” Victor pouts, glaring at his foot. “That’s what I get for forcing myself, I suppose.”

They’re interrupted by the sounds of people loudly talking outside the ring. Yuuri leans towards to the door to see what the commotion is when it’s burst open by Yurio’s foot kicking it nearly off its hinges.

“Yurio?” 

It’s all Yuuri can manage before the chaos starts.

“WHERE IS HE?” he yells, his voice echoing through the rink, startling Makkachin from his nap and causing the poodle to add to the noise with his own barking. 

“WHERE IS THAT WASHED UP OLD MAN?”

Behind Yurio, Mila rushes through the doors, calling after him. 

“YURIO, YAKOV IS GOING TO MURDER YOU IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY GIVEN HIM A DAMN HEART ATTACK!” she screams, tackling Yurio the floor and pinning him in a headlock. Blowing a stray piece of hair from her eyes, she turns to where Yuuri and Victor are still awestruck on the bench. “Hi, guy!”

“Uh...hi, Mila?” Yuuri manages as Victor gives a small wave. At their feet, Makkachin is circling around the two skaters on the floor, barking happily that the threat seems to be have been eliminated. “What is going on?”

On the floor, Yurio is still fighting against Mila’s hold. It isn’t enough to phase Mila, however, as she explains the situation with ease.

“We had just gotten back from Lilia’s when Yurio saw on his phone a headline from some gossip rag that Victor’s dumb ankle injury was enough to get him to retire,” she motions to Yurio, who has at this point has resulted to gnawing on Mila’s arm as an attempt to escape her hold. “We told him that it was just stupid rumors, but of course Yura had to run all the way here from the bus stop to see if you and Yuuri were at least practicing because he was so worried it was true.”

“Shut up, cow! I wasn’t worried!” Yurio hissed, his body falling hard onto the floor as Mila releases her hold on him. He looked away, and Yuuri could see the faintest glimpse of a blush forming on his cheeks. 

“By the way you plowed in here, it sure did look like you were worried,” Yuuri smiles and turns to Victor. “What do you think, Vitya? Could Yurio’s outburst keep you from retiring over a rolled ankle?”

Victor is barely hiding his laughter behind his hand as his smile reaches up to his eyes. After how things ended before their rink mates left for their trip, Yuuri knew it added insult to Victor’s injury. It warms Yuuri’s heart to see how Yurio’s unconventional way of showing his admiration for Victor was helping pull him from his funk. 

“Hmmm,” Victor plays along, tapping his forefinger against his lips in faux-thought. “I suppose I still need to defend my titles for another year. Can’t do that if I retire, can I, Yuuri?”

“No, you cannot,” Yuuri smiles, taking his fiance’s hand. The gold band on his finger reflects in the light of the rink. “Guess that means you’ll have to recover quickly.”

They’re interrupted by the loud sound of someone mocking gagging. It takes less than a millisecond for them to realize it’s Yurio, who has covered his head with his hood. Victor laughs, assuring him that he’ll be back on the rink that next day. Next to them, Mila pets Makkachin as she calls Yakov to assure him that they’re all at the rink and Yurio was not still rage-running through St. Petersburg.

Yuuri smiled, taking a seat next to Victor on the bench. Even though Yuuri didn’t appreciate the position the rink doctor had taken with him, he had to admit that he was correct on one assumption. 

Yakov’s skaters were dramatic.


End file.
